UnComfortable
by Vain
Summary: Repost - SeiferSquall, RinoaSquall pairings. With the Sorceress defeated and the war won, things can finally settle down, right? Wrong. Now a different sort of battle is being fought in Balamb Garden-one that will change the Lion forever. Chapter 3:5 up -
1. UnImpressed

_**UnComfortable  
**_By: Vain  
27.10.2002

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

I do not own Squall Leonhart, Seifer Almasy, Rinoa Heartilly or any of the other members of the Final Fantasy VIII cast. They are the property of Sony and Squaresoft and I am not making any profit from using them. The song "_Comfortable_" was preformed by John Mayer and can be found on his album **Inside Wants Out** (track 7) from Columbia Records.

Special thank you goes to the Guardian of the Mashiroi Kaze for the preliminary beta.

**NOTE** This story has **YAOI** and **SHOUNEN-AI** in it—Seifer/Squall pairing, no character bashing.

This story has and in it—Seifer/Squall pairing, no character bashing. 

This story was originally launched under my secondary pen name, "Hanakai." For convenience's sake, I have decided to streamline my fics under my original pen name, Vain. **_SAME AUTHOR._****_ SAME STORY. DIFFERENT NAME._** As a fic is re-uploaded under my Vain pen name, I will delete it from my Hanakai profile. Eventually, Hanakai will be deleted entirely, so please update your faves and bookmarks to reflect this.

_Thank you_ for all your previous reviews—I saved them all—and I hope you all review again. I'm greedy.

For progress notes on the pen name transition or if you have any questions, please see **my** **Livejournal** (linked both my profiles). I hope this doesn't inconvenience anyone & thank you for your patience.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Chapter One  
UnImpressed

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

I just remembered that time at the market,  
Snuck up behind me and jumped on my shopping cart  
And rode down aisle five.  
You looked behind you to smile back at me,  
Crashed into a rack full of magazines.  
They asked us if we could leave.

0614 hours.

He squinted slightly so that her edges blurred and fuzzed into the background until she, the others, and everything else in the room was an indistinguishable smear of color. And yet she continued talking, blissfully unaware of the fact that he had temporarily erased her.

"You never talk to me anymore, Squall. We're all getting worried about you. You have to let someone in . . ."

So he stopped hearing her voice, allowing an older, deeper voice long ago ingrained in him to overlap it.

"You're not listening to me!"

Yes, I am.

"You never listen to me!"

Yes I do. How could I ever hear anything else?

"Look at me, goddamn it!"

"Would you just—"

"Whatever."

"Squall!"

Gray eyes blinked several times in attempt to focus on the girl in front of him. "Rinoa . . .?"

The petite sorceress huffed in irritation and stood up, cocking her hips slightly to the side and pouting prettily. "You're not listening to me!"

"You're not listening to me!"

"Yes, I am."

Her expression darkened. "Oh?" A slender size 6 1/2 heel began to tap on the floor. "Really?"

For a moment the young man shifted across the cafeteria table. It was not a motion of discomfort, just a slight movement to alleviate the pressure on his knees. Rinoa began to nibble at her lower lip impatiently, a gesture he still found remarkably endearing despite all that was happing to them—to _him_.

He looked down at his untouched tray. ". . . Whatever."

"Whatever!" The tapping heel impacted on the polished linoleum floor with a decidedly loud click. "Fine," she snapped, her long hair flashing beneath the florescent lights as she spun around sharply. "Whatever."

A sharp poke in the ribs distracted him from watching her slender backside sway stiffly out of the cafeteria doors.

He turned to his right to frown at Irvine. The cowboy scowled in disgust, violet eyes shimmering faintly before he tugged down the bill of his hat. "Smooth, Commander."

Zell snorted and out of the corner of his eye, Squall could see Quistis' lips purse in irritation. Even Selphie looked aggravated as she snuggled closer to Irvine.

Wonderful. It wasn't even 07:00 hours and he had managed to upset everyone at the table.

A small wrinkle appeared in his forehead, deepening his scar, as that young man's frown deepened. He opened his mouth and then closed it. The words that he needed wouldn't come out. "I . . ." He scowled in consternation. "It's . . . nothing."

Irvine made a quiet noise in the back of his throat that sounded suspiciously bitter. "'Course it's not."

For a moment Squall considered replying, but he knew that there was really nothing that he could say. He stood up with a sigh and carried his tray to the trashcan. He really hadn't been hungry anyway.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

There were practically no people in the halls this early, which was just as well. Squall was so distracted that the Galbadian army could have walked beside him in full parade dress and he wouldn't have noticed. His eyes studied the familiar linoleum as he walked—meandered, really—to the elevator to go to his office.

It wasn't like there was really anything to be said—there wasn't. It was something that he would have to deal with on his own. And if Rinoa couldn't handle his brooding silences, if Irvine and Quistis couldn't take his lack of appetite and the dark smudges beneath his eyes that seemed to grow daily, and Zell and Selphie couldn't handle being pushed away . . . well then, there was nothing he could say.

He _wanted_ to be happy with Rinoa. He truly did. He just . . . wasn't. And he knew why. She knew why. Half of the Garden knew why. Yet still the situation simply stagnated. The wounds were too old, too deep, too festered to bear examination. Better to cover them and hold them close to him so no one could prod at them and make them worse.

And if the wounds never closed, never healed, the pain would remain to remind him that it hadn't been a dream or a fever; it had been real. It still was real. And if that was all he could have, then that knowledge would have to suffice.

He could handle this. He had decimated armies. He had walked from one end of hell to the other. He had been strong enough to bear the weight of the world, so what was this? Nothing. A painful sort of nostalgia, that was all. Just emotions.

Very, very real emotions who had stood at attention to accept their long overdue promotion to SeeD yesterday morning. Emotions who had come waltzing back into his life eleven months ago without warning or apology. Emotions who had stood in Cid's office and looked down into his eyes and said with a graveness he wouldn't have believed them capable of, "I want to be a SeeD, Leonhart. And I want your blessing to do it."

What was he supposed to say when faced with these emotions—with this rival, this Knight? No?

He tried, oh sweet _Hyne_ how he had tried, but his tongue heeded only his treacherous heart. "Do whatever you want, Seifer. As long as you stay out of trouble, I don't care."

"But I want your blessing."

"Why?"

Why did you leave me? Why did you hurt me? Why did you come back here? Why weren't you here sooner? Why did you hide from me? Why did you ask for me? Why ask for my blessing? Why do you need it? Why do you care? Why don't_ you care?_

don't 

Too many questions.

And the former Knight's jade eyes softened in a way Squall had never seen before as he stared at the younger man. "For luck."

No apologies, no explanations, just Seifer and his damnably green eyes. And frighteningly enough, that had been enough.

So Seifer Almasy was back in Garden and was now a member of SeeD. The others had been furious, especially Rinoa.

"Have you forgotten what he did to you—to me! He tried to kill us!"

"I know. I was there at the time."

"He tried to kill me_! The woman you supposedly LOVE! He threw me right into Her arms!" _

"Squall!"

"What's done is done, Rinoa. Seifer is back and he's not going anywhere any time soon, so I suggest you deal with it."

me 

Then she slapped him. In the middle of the cafeteria during lunch. The silence that followed had been deafening, so loud in fact that it followed him back to his office when he walked out on her. It still followed him.

It had been something symbolic, he supposed—that walking out. There had been no quiet anger, no icy glares, not even a twinge of irritation when her delicate hand impacted with his cheek and the replicated Griever ring that she wore tore into his pale skin. There had been nothing but the quiet spatter of his blood hitting that cafeteria floor and that endless, penetrating silence. It bore into his soul, eroded whatever love he had felt for her, and left him quiet and empty.

What was Squall supposed to say while he was buried underneath all that silence? They wanted answers that he didn't have. How could he tell them that he didn't know why he couldn't speak to them?

He simply couldn't. He didn't understand why he felt a sick sense of dread when he climbed into bed with Rinoa every night long after she had gone to sleep. He had no explanations for why he dreamed in shades of a remarkable green he had only seen in one place. There was no real reason why Rinoa's touch should leave him feeling as though a dry wind had rushed through him and left him gutted in its wake. He didn't know why it hurt him every time one of them walked past Seifer and made some snide comment.

But he did know that the pain buried behind his fallen rival's glorious gaze was enough to make him feel physically ill. The Great Seifer Almasy . . . An exile in his own home and a pariah in the halls he had once walked through the way a king walked through his palace. It _hurt_.

It hurt even more every time Seifer walked out of a room as soon as he entered it or went out of his way to not see Squall or ignored the notes Squall slid under his door asking if they could train together.

They had all abandoned him—of that he felt certain. Quistis, Irvine, Selphie, Rinoa, even his infallible Zell . . . _Zell_ who never left him behind, his friend . . . They had all left him. They felt he had betrayed them by welcoming back the Sorceress' Knight.

Didn't they know that he never had a choice? He could have no more turned Seifer away than he could have torn out each and every one of his own veins. Why couldn't they see that? Why couldn't they understand that with Seifer he _never had a choice_? The blond was inside him, moving in him like a living thing. He had chosen Rinoa. Hadn't that been enough?

Apparently not.

Squall turned sharply, suddenly intent on heading for the Training Center. He had the sudden urge to kill something. He was quite surprised then when he turned and suddenly walked into a wall—a very living, solid six foot four blond wall.

His forehead slammed hard into Seifer's broad chest and the taller man yelped sharply in surprise as Squall stumbled backwards to land on the immaculate floor with a thump and the jingle of belt buckles. The tip of Lionheart, which he had strapped across his back, hit the ground hard, slamming the hilt into the back his head.

"Ow."

"Oh, Hyne . . ."

The anguished whisper made the shorter man raise his impassive eyes to Seifer's face. The look in the blond's eyes was something close to panic.

"Squall, I—"

"It was my fault," he interrupted quietly in his soft, flat voice. "I was thinking."

Seifer's eyes softened in that strange way again and he smiled slightly. "You're always thinking . . ."

Squall's face didn't change, but for a moment his eyes smiled, mirroring the expression in Seifer's eyes. "I'm sorry."

The blond shook his head and held out a gloved hand to aid the Commander to his feet. His white trench coat whispered around his calves as he bent over. "No, I shouldn't have been so close."

"No . . ." Squall stood and pushed his unruly auburn locks out his eyes. "I meant about everything." He gave his companion a sidelong look, his eyes the color of thunderheads. "Everything."

Seifer stiffened noticeably and walked away from his former rival to lean on a handrail and study the water that flowed through the Garden. For a moment he said nothing, but when he did speak, Squall had to strain to hear him over the water's quiet whisper.

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

There was a leather-muffled jingling as Squall came to stand next to him. Seifer hesitated, unused to such intimacy after eleven months of solitude, but Squall's eyes were fixed on the water instead of him. He sighed and allowed himself the minor indecency of leaning in closer, just close enough to smell Squall, to _almost_ taste his breath should the shorter man turn to look at him.

A delicate frown hovered at the edges of Squall's pale lips. "I don't?"

Seifer shook his head, unable to manage a verbal response.

Squall shifted closer so that he was almost leaning against Seifer's chest. Seifer inhaled deeply and felt a twinge of contentment. His heart lurched at Squall quiet words, however.

"I thought you hated me."

Green eyes quickly scanned the hallways. They were utterly alone. A tentative arm moved to the other side of Squall to rest on the railing at his right side as Seifer shifted behind him, trapping him between the other man's body and the railing. Seifer seemed to freeze for a moment as though he were unsure if Squall would allow this new, unexplored contact between them. Surprisingly, the lithe brunet made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a sigh and slumped back bonelessly against Seifer's chest. Instinctively, Seifer drew his arms in closer. If his hands hadn't been locked in a death grip around the railing, he would have been holding Squall against him.

Curious to see what Squall was willing to give him, he rested his chin on the other man's slender right shoulder. Squall leaned back, exposing the long white expanse of his throat and laying his head on Seifer's left shoulder. His eyes fluttered shut as he felt the tension leave the blond's body.

"I . . . I'm not mad at you." Seifer's lips brushed his throat gently as they moved, sending small chills through him. "Why would you think that?"

"You run from me. You don't want to talk to me . . ."

"I _shouldn't_ talk to you," the other man corrected gently. Squall's scent was almost making him dizzy. "I doubt your friends would approve." A shallow smirk quirked at his lips and Squall moved slightly so that the motion was pressed to his jugular.

"So? Even when we were fighting all the time . . . we've never _not_ talked. Even during the war . . ."

Seifer stiffened and started to pull away, but stopped when Squall pressed his throat to his cheek. There was no doubt in Seifer's mind that Squall had no idea of how this had to look, of how this was making him feel. Squall wasn't stupid, not by a long shot—he was simply innocent. Completely and utterly innocent. And even though the Lion had had Rinoa in his bed every night for eight months, Seifer knew for a fact that they hadn't had sex yet. And he doubted that they ever would at the rate things were going. Subtly is not the best way to pursue emotional issues with the High Commander.

Never mind the fact that said High Commander was pressing himself rather tightly against the body of a man in the middle of the hall at 6:27 in the morning and stretching himself against the man (who happened to have tried to kill him about a hundred or so times in the past) in way that practically screamed "throw me on the floor and fuck me!" to the casual observer. And Seifer was very close to doing just that. But he wouldn't—he couldn't. Squall understood that this was surrender and he was offering it to Seifer because he thought—knew—on some level that this was what he needed to do to keep Seifer from running back to his new SeeD dorm and shutting him out. This was the first time they had spoken in private since Seifer's return and he still knew how Seifer worked. He had always known.

What he didn't know was why Seifer ran from him, why Seifer couldn't trust himself alone with Squall. The blond sighed, annoyed with the young man pressing himself oh-so-innocently into his embrace and even more annoyed with himself for not just pushing the man away and telling him all the answers to the "whys" that Seifer had seen swimming in his gray eyes when Squall realized exactly who it was he'd walked into. And that was looking increasingly like a good idea since it would only be a matter of time before Squall noticed the growing erection he was so calmly pressing his nice, round bottom against.

And yet for some ridiculous reason (most likely the nice, round bottom), Seifer couldn't move. "So what if we haven't talked," he muttered irritably into that smooth alabaster neck. He pressed closer against the skin in what could have easily been mistaken for a kiss.

"I miss you," the brunet replied simply as though it was the most logical thing in the world.

Seifer chuckled bitterly, his whole body shaking with the sound. "Why?"

He could almost imagine the slightly confused frown the question earned him. "Why do I need a reason?"

The blond rolled his eyes. _Best to do this quickly anyway. Better that he knows. Best to just rip the scabs off this damn wound and let it all finally bleed out all over the floor for him to see. Better that he walks away in disgust so that he leaves me alone and I can forget about him. Because this . . . isn't real if he doesn't know. And it's not fair to either of us._

"What are you thinking?" Squall murmured softly.

Seifer pressed another almost kiss against his throat. "Do you want to know why I'm avoiding you? Why Rinoa glares at me every time I walk into the room and the Chicken Wuss looks at me like he'd like to use me as a punching bag?"

Squall nodded. "Yes." He paused for a moment, considering something. "Do you want to come eat breakfast with me in my office?"

It took all of Seifer's self control not to roar with laughter at the request. He kissed Squall's neck again, nipping at the soft flesh before licking it lightly so that there was no mistaking the action. "I'm in love with you, Squall."

He tensed, readying himself for the man in his arms to freak out, to turn around and hit him, to hurt him. But he didn't move. Holding Squall like this . . . well, it would definitely be worth getting the shit kicked out of him.

Instead, though, Squall simply opened his eyes to stare at the distant ceiling and frowned slightly. "What?"

Seifer smiled darkly and moved his slow kisses up to Squall's earlobe. He pressed his now-obvious erection against his companion's leather-clad behind firmly and rocked slightly, just enough to move their bodies. He really wasn't sure how much more obvious he had to make this. "I'm in love with you," he repeated calmly. "I want to touch you, to hold you, to feel you underneath me and hear you scream my name when you come. I want to make you beg. I dream about it, you know. About you. About making love to you so much that you can't walk the next day without a Curaga. I dream that you love it."

". . . Oh."

And still the explosion didn't come. In fact, Squall said absolutely nothing for over a minute as Seifer capitalized on his . . . _whatever_ by nipping at the exposed skin and rolling his hips gently against him. If not for the fact that Seifer was both Seifer Almasy and almost painfully aroused, he probably would have been in fear for his life. Instead he began to suck lightly on the juncture between Squall's neck and shoulder.

He became so absorbed in the act that it took him a minute to understand what Squall was saying.

"Seifer?"

"Mmm?"

"I dream of you too."

And Seifer stopped. He stopped moving. He stopped kissing. He stopped breathing. "What?"

Squall slowly pulled away from him and turned in Seifer's arms so that they were facing each other. Seifer could taste his breath; it was coffee and cinnamon and something so wholly _Squall_ that it was only his utter shock that stopped him from kissing the other man.

Squall's eyes shifted from stormy confusion to stunning blue and back, but his face was impassive save the small, confused from. "I dream about you too."

Seifer jerked away and turned to go. He made it about three steps away before a deceptively slender hand wrapped around his forearm.

His voice was growl. "Let me go, Leonhart!"

"Seifer . . ."

He jerked away from the touch. "Don't you _DARE_! Don't you fucking play with me, you little—"

"Breakfast?" Squall flushed slightly—something Seifer had never seen, but found himself wanting to see again—and looked down at the floor, his face growing redder by the second. "If you want, I mean," he whispered softly. "If you don't . . ."

For a moment, Seifer stared at the other man in confusion, utterly unable to process what was happening. "I . . ." He cursed himself for sounding so weak. "I . . . was going to the cafeteria . . ."

"Oh." If possible, the blush actually deepened. "The others are still there and . . . I haven't eaten . . . I just—"

"Your office?"

Squall looked up into a gaze that had suddenly become cold and unreadable. "Yeah . . . I . . . still miss you," he explained softly after a moment.

Seifer crossed his arms and frowned at the floor. "Cafeteria coffee?"

Squall shook his head. "I make my own . . . Xu bought me a coffee maker for Yule . . ."

They stood in uncomfortable silence for a moment before Seifer looked up, a small smile tugging at the edge of his lips. "Pancakes, of course?" he asked with false gravity. Seifer was an unconsummated pancake addict.

"Of course."

The blond nodded sharply and spun on his heel, headed towards the elevator. "Step lively then, Puberty Boy!" he called over his shoulder. "Flapjacks wait for no man!"

Squall did not look down at his watch was he quickly followed after the other man's longer strides. He didn't know that it was six thirty nine. He also did not look over his shoulder to see the figures materialize from around the corner of the Cafeteria hallway. He did not know that Irvine Kinneas and Zell Dincht had seen and heard nearly everything.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

This story has and in it—Seifer/Squall pairing, no character bashing.don'tme 


	2. So Broken In

_**UnComfortable  
**_By: Vain  
27.10.2002

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

I do not own Squall Leonhart, Seifer Almasy, Rinoa Heartilly or any of the other members of the Final Fantasy VIII cast. They are the property of Sony and Squaresoft and I am not making any profit from using them. The song "_Comfortable_" was preformed by John Mayer and can be found on his album **Inside Wants Out** (track 7) from Columbia Records.

Special thank you goes to the Guardian of the Mashiroi Kaze for the preliminary beta.

**NOTE:** This story has **YAOI** and **SHOUNEN-AI** in it—Seifer/Squall pairing, no character bashing.

This story has and in it—Seifer/Squall pairing, no character bashing. 

This story was originally launched under my secondary pen name, "Hanakai." For convenience's sake, I have decided to streamline my fics under my original pen name, Vain. **_SAME AUTHOR._****_ SAME STORY. DIFFERENT NAME._** As a fic is re-uploaded under my Vain pen name, I will delete it from my Hanakai profile. Eventually, Hanakai will be deleted entirely, so please update your faves and bookmarks to reflect this.

_Thank you_ for all your previous reviews—I saved them all—and I hope you all review again. I'm greedy.

For progress notes on the pen name transition or if you have any questions, please see **my** **Livejournal** (linked both my profiles). I hope this doesn't inconvenience anyone & thank you for your patience.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

**Chapter Two  
So Broken In**

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

_**Can't remember**_

_**What went wrong last September,  
Though I'm sure you'd remind me**_

_**If you had to.  
Our love was comfortable and  
So broken in.  
**_

Zell darted forward and delivered a neat roundhouse kick to one of the Grat's flailing tentacles. It jerked back violently and made a strange gurgling hiss. Irvine raised Exeter and fired a single bullet before the plant-like monster could retaliate. The creature shrieked and then wilted before fading away into holographic dust.

"God_damnit_!"

The cowboy watched sympathetically as the small martial artist began to pound at the ground with his fists. "Zell . . ."

"What the _FUCK_ is he thinking! Has he lost his fucking mind! Okay, so Rinoa's not the sharpest Crayon in the tool shed, and she's damned annoying, and she's about as deep as Marlboro dung during spring planting, but SEIFER FUCKING ALMASY!"

Irvine adjusted his hat and looked around the Training Center worriedly. He doubted the High Commander would be thrilled if this became public knowledge . . . Whatever "this" was. "Zell . . ."

Zell ignored him, choosing to stand up and shadow box instead. "I mean, Hyne on a fucking pogo stick, _WHAT_ is going on in that head of his!" A perfectly executed jump-spinning crescent kick arched through the air. "First that prick drags his sorry ass back to Garden and then Squall turns into complete stranger over-freakin'-_night_ and now this?"

The blond's voice raised several octaves; mocking Squall's soft alto and giving it a decidedly feminine shrill. "I miss you Seifer. You never talk to me, Seifer. I worship the fucking ground you walk on, Seifer. I want to bear your fucking children, Seifer. Never mind that you're a raging psychopath that beat me, tortured me, tormented me, tried to kill me, and almost_ **TOOK OVER THE FUCKING WORLD**_!"

"ZELL!"

The shorter man suddenly stopped his bouncing and scowled. "Zell what?"

"You wanna try keeping it down some?" The sharpshooter toyed with the ends of his long, auburn hair, a nervous habit he'd never been able to conquer. "I doubt that our darling Pussy-cat would appreciate it if we let this thing get out."

The blond sneered. "Hyne forbid it."

"Let's just go. We've been here for nearly an hour and all we've managed to do was give Ifrit and Quezacotl a workout and kill off about forty Grats. Should we go see him?"

"Why? So that we can interrupt Seifer while he's popping his cherry?"

The taller man sighed. "You weren't this mad when he was with Rinny!"

"He's still _with_ 'Rinny!' And that's because darling 'Rinny' never tried to kill him!" Zell snarled.

"No!" Irvine snapped back. "She only put herself into a thousand and one dangerous situations so that she could play the damsel in distress and force him to her rescue. So that she could play the Good Sorceress and Her Loyal Knight."

"Rinoa cares about him," the blond growled dangerously.

"Bullshit!" the cowboy drawled. "Rinoa cares about herself and no one but herself. She's a spoiled, brainless airhead who got just close enough at just the right time and managed to drag him off his little 'I-Don't-Give-a-Fuck' cloud and force him to walk on the ground with the rest of us useless human beings. She got lucky. End of story."

Zell's fists clenched and he took a step forward. "That's a fine thing coming from a whore like you who fucks anything that walks and has a hole!"

Violet eyes narrowed dangerously and the Galbadian shifted his weight slightly, his voice a low purr: "I may be a whore and I may be promiscuous, but I've never let someone I loved go just because I was too fucking scared to stand by him when he needed me."

Zell's face turned white beneath the stark black lines of his tattoo. ". . . What did you just say?"

"I said you're a coward, Zell."

The other man turned away. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Maybe," Irvine tipped his hat in acknowledgement, "maybe not. You forget, Zell, that I was the one standing at his left hand through that whole awful war and I could always see you standing at his right, flinching every time he hit Renzokuken, frowning every time he piled another Guardian Force into his head because he was taking 'em in like candy. I saw you, Zell. And I saw how much it hurt you that it was Rinoa who pulled him back from the edge of oblivion and not you." He smiled slightly. "And do you know what I thought about him?"

Zell turned around and stared at Irvine, an indecipherable emotion swimming in his flat blue eyes. "What?"

Irvine chuckled darkly. "At first I looked at you and Quisty and Rinny and I _hated_ him. I hated him because he was blind and cruel and so _undeserving_ of your love when I was the one who got left behind in Galbadia. Alone. And then I saw him fight and I understood. And I saw him work his ass off to keep us all safe: skipping meals when the rations ran low, taking extra watches so we could all get sleep, hitting his Limit Break every single damn time he could afford to and Drawing even when he had so much magic in him it hurt, just so that he could protect us all. Then I understood and maybe, for just an instant, I loved him too."

"And then what?" Zell's throat was dry and his eyes studied the ground. "You sayin' you don't? Love him, I mean?"

"Yah, I love him," the sharpshooter sighed. "But not all brotherly like Quistis does now. Not like you do or like Rinny does. I love him like . . . Like you love those little starving children you see pictures of. You hurt for 'em, wanna help 'em, you care for 'em and you grieve for 'em, but you just let 'em be because messing around with something like that hurts too much." He sighed again. "You didn't see it—the look on his face when he saw Seifer standing there next to Edea. It was the first time I'd seen him smile like something mattered to him since Sis left. And then, when he realized what was going on, he just looked kinda sick, like he'd been kicked in the stomach. That's when I knew better than to go messing around with that."

The cowboy shook his head. "It's not healthy, whatever the two of them have been doing to themselves. And, Seifer's temper not withstanding, it's damned unhealthy for anyone to stand in their way—in love _or_ in war." His violet eyes locked onto Zell's blue ones in silent warning. "Damned unhealthy."

And nothing more was said.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

"What are we doing, Seifer?"

The blond man lounged idly in one of the borderline-uncomfortable chairs that decorated Squall's Spartan office and sipped on the French vanilla coffee he had been so graciously provided. Two empty plates and a tray with butter and syrup sat on the table next the door. "What?"

Squall shifted in front of the window behind his desk, oblivious to the way the light of the rising sun accented the glittering steel of his belts and carved sharply into the graceful sweep of his narrow hips. He leaned forward, resting on the windowsill, and pressed his scarred forehead against the cool glass. "Is this the way you pictured things? Our lives, I mean?"

Seifer looked up with a sharp frown. "What do you mean, sweetness?"

A delicate eyebrow lifted and the Commander turned slightly, a faint smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. "Sweetness?"

The blond shrugged nonchalantly and Squall heaved a deep sigh. He walked around the desk and settled into the chair next to Seifer's.

"This," he raised his hands and gestured helplessly to neat, functional office. "All this . . . This is my life." He lifted his mug off the desk and settled back into his chair, stormy eyes locked on the desk. His Inbox was stacked high full of papers and SeeD Request Forms. His Outbox was empty.

The young man took a slow sip of coffee and his eyes lidded. "I wake up. I go to breakfast. I argue with Rinoa. I argue with Zell and Quistis. I come up here and do paperwork. I skip lunch to train. I do more paperwork. I skip dinner to train. I do more paperwork. I eat a cinnamon raisin bagel with strawberry cream cheese every night at 11:30. I do more work until two. I go to bed." Squall's eyes opened and he suddenly looked shockingly old for someone who wasn't even twenty yet. He looked haggard. "Everyday. Until I die."

"Squall—"

The shorter man waved him into silence before continuing, still frowning into the darkness of his coffee. "I woke up one day and I knew that. I understood that this was what I had to do. I would settle down with Rinoa. Have children. Become Headmaster some day . . . I knew this. It's what they're all expecting. And then you came back."

He stopped and stared out of the window, his eyes distant and impassive. "You came back. And what was I to do then, Seifer?"

For a moment neither man said anything, simply watched the sun glittering over the ocean. The Garden had been in Fisherman's Harbor's waters for three weeks now for repairs. There simply wasn't enough room for everything, so they had decided to expand several sectors including the administrative offices, the classes, and the dorms. Laguna had offered to help, but FH put in a lower bid. That, and Squall wanted to be nowhere near his father even under the best of circumstances; and lately things had been anything but the best of circumstances. When the expansion was done, he, Cid, and Xu would have new offices and the Administration and Faculty would have the space that they'd all been clamoring for over the past year.

"What do you want me to say, Leonhart?" Seifer slumped in his chair and stretched his long legs out in front of him. "I didn't ask for any of this."

Squall took another sip his coffee. Three spoons of sugar and no cream—perfect. "Tell me what happened. Your 'romantic dream,' remember? You did say you'd tell me someday."

"You know," the blond began in irritation, "for someone who can't talk, you never could shut the hell up around me."

The brunet scowled faintly into his coffee. "It's not that I _can't_ talk . . . I just don't have anything to say. I'm not . . . good . . . with talking to people."

"You never seemed to have trouble with me." Seifer swirled the coffee in his mug around when Squall didn't respond after a few moments. "In fact, I've probably heard you speak more than anyone else in the Garden. And you talk just fine when you know what it is that you want to say—you're more eloquent than most people I've met. You just don't talk to people. Except for me. Why?"

"You never . . . demanded stuff like the others do from me."

"I annoyed the hell out of you, tried to kill you on several occasions, picked on you, spread rumors about you, alienated you from everyone who tried to get within two feet of you, and generally spent most of my time trying to hurt you as much as possible. And that's not even including my whole 'Let's-Serve-the-Psycho-Bitch-from-Hell' phase." He drained his mug. "That makes me Leonhart-Worthy in your book?"

"I'm glad to see that you've maintained your sense of humor," Squall said flatly. He looked over, his gray eyes dark. "Angst doesn't really suit you, Seifer."

The blond made a noise that sounded faintly like a growl. "Yah well, all the warm happy fuzziness you're sending my way is kinda freakin' me out there, kiddo."

Squall looked up in annoyance. "I'm only a year younger than you, you know."

"Would you rather I call you Pussy-cat like the cowboy does?"

Gray eyes blinked. "He calls me what?"

"Pussy-cat." Seifer smirked. "C'mon . . . You mean you didn't know? Everyone in the school knows."

Squall frowned and slumped slightly in his chair. The scar on his forehead twisted and his eyes grew distant. Seifer waited patiently until he came back from where ever he went when he was thinking.

"He calls me Pussy-cat?" Squall asked after several minutes.

"Mmm-hmm." Seifer leaned forward and put his mug on the desk. "Cowboy's kinda creepy if you ask me."

"Irvine?" The Commander frowned again. "He's . . . Irvine."

"Yah. And stop looking at me like I just kicked your puppy. You're gonna get wrinkles if you keep making that face."

Squall blinked innocently, obviously having no clue what Seifer was talking about, and the larger man chuckled.

"You're so cute when you do that," he teased the brunet.

Squall scowled and flushed. "What's wrong with Irvine? He and Selphie are the only ones not jumping down my throat every five seconds."

"He absolutely despises Rinoa, you know," Seifer said. "I really think he'd kill her if he could—if he didn't know you'd freak."

"Irvine would never—"

Seifer snorted. "He's a trained assassin, Pussy-cat. Yes, he would. And for some reason that I have yet to figure out, he really hates her. I've seen the way he looks at her sometimes—I've _watched_ you, all of you—and let me tell you, he'd kill her if it wasn't for you."

Squall's lips quirked slightly, obviously unconvinced. "You're seeing things. And don't call me that."

"Whatever," the blond teased. "I'm just saying—the guy's skipping with half a rope, s'all."

"Shut up, Seifer. Irvine would never do anything to hurt any of us."

Seifer rolled his green eyes up to the ceiling as though seeking divine intervention to make Squall understand what he was saying. "Hyne, I _know_ that, sweetness. He would _never_ hurt any of us. Hence the Rinoa-rage. Not that I blame him."

"So . . . What?" Squall straightened and sat forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees and fists tucked beneath his chin as he mulled what Seifer had said over in his head. "You're saying he doesn't like Rinoa because she's not one of us—our so-called 'Orphanage Gang?' "

"Among other things." Seifer leaned forward so that he was closer to Squall. He reached out and brushed the brunet's unruly bangs out of his eyes. "His little cowgirl ain't that fond of your Sorceress either."

Squall leaned into the touch unconsciously; eyes distant, his mind still wrangling with the problem. "They wouldn't do anything to her." He absently nuzzled Seifer's hand as it slid down to tenderly cup his cheek. "They're good soldiers. It's nothing to worry about." He began to nibble on his lower lip.

"I want you," Seifer whispered in a suddenly husky voice.

Squall looked over at him, the color of his eyes shifting rapidly as his emotions changed. "Seifer . . ."

They maintained eye contact for a moment before Squall suddenly leaned back into his chair and away from Seifer. He turned and looked down at the floor over the right arm of his chair. "You didn't answer my question."

"Do you really love Rinoa Heartilly?" Seifer demanded instead. "Look at me and say that you do and I'll leave. Because it's damned obvious to me that you don't."

"And what?" the brunet hissed coldly. "Do you want me to say that I love you?"

"Stop being a prick, Leonhart."

"Just answer my damn question, Almasy."

They glared at one another until the loud tick of the clock became unbearable. Seifer looked away and his shoulder sagged.

"What the hell do you want from me, Leonhart?"

"I want you to tell me why. Why you left. Why you came back. Why . . . I just . . ." he trailed off, unable to find the words he needed. "Damnit, Seifer . . . You know . . ."

Seifer frowned darkly and for a moment Squall thought that he wasn't going to answer. Then he sighed heavily and slumped down in his eat once again. "My . . . romantic dream . . ." He released a bitter bark of laughter. "It all seems so stupid now. You'd think I went with the Bitch to fulfill it, right?" He shook his head before Squall could respond. "I went because she promised me power. She promised me the power to decide my own fate instead of living or dying on the word of some stupid CO who had no clue what he was talking about. I was Seifer Fucking Almasy—I made my own destiny. What a crock . . ."

"Do you . . . regret . . . leaving Garden?" Squall asked softly after Seifer said nothing for a moment.

The blond shrugged. "It depends on what you mean. I regret hurting people, all the killing, betraying the Garden. I may be an asshole, but I never meant to be a traitor . . ." He looked over at Squall and the other man caught his breath at the intensity in his jade eyes. "I regret hurting you."

Squall looked away.

Seifer reached out and squeezed his left hand gently with his right. "Squall? Look at me?"

"Don't, Seifer."

"Squall—"

The brunet looked up again and squeezed his hand. "It's over."

Seifer's eyes took on that strange, half amused, half regretful look again. "But in the end, I can't really regret anything at all. If I did, I'd go crazy. I can't change the past. I can't live on what-ifs. I can't ever take back my actions. Besides, what I did has made me who I am. And I like who I am a damn sight better than who I was." He smiled faintly. "Shitty answer, huh?"

Squall shook his head. "No. It was an honest one. You saw something you wanted and you went for it. Nothing that you hadn't done before."

"It still doesn't answer your questions, though."

The brunet shrugged moodily. "To be honest, Seifer, I'm not even sure what I'm asking you. I don't suppose it matters, though. In the end you're right—no matter what you say, the past is the past. I guess the best we can do is pick up the pieces and move on, right?"

"Since when the hell are you a philosopher, Leonhart?"

"Since you stopped being a prick 24-7," the shorter man responded coolly.

Seifer laughed.

A small smile quirked at the edges of Squall's mouth and he pressed himself back into his chair as though trying to hide the expression.

The blond stood and walked over to the window Squall had previously stood at, still chuckling to himself. "We're quite a pair, neh Leonhart?"

"I suppose," came the soft response.

Seifer sighed heavily and watched the play of the sunlight on the waves in silence for several minutes.

"I would have followed you," Squall whispered suddenly.

" . . . What . . .?" Green eyes wide, Seifer turned to his rival, unable to believe what he had just heard. He settled back against the window ledge to steady himself. "What did you say?"

Squall was sitting up in his chair, leaning on his elbows again and frowning at the floor. His eyes were once more distant and slightly out of focus, but Seifer knew that he was paying attention. The brunet bit at his bottom lip again and said to the linoleum beneath his feet, "If you had asked me . . . Just held out your hand to me . . . I would have come with you. No questions. No demands. No hesitation." He looked up and his gray eyes were blue. "If you had asked me to."

Seifer frowned down at the desk, absently noting that one of the drawers was left slightly open. "I was waiting for you to come _for_ me actually. It's pathetic, really . . . I kept on waiting for you to come sweeping in and rescue me. Even after you told me you wouldn't—said that I was your enemy. I just figured . . . you'd come one day. And everything would be okay." He looked up into Squall's soft blue eyes and felt his jade eyes harden to glittering gems. "Why didn't you?"

". . ."

"Why didn't you come for me, Leonhart? Any one of the others . . . Trepe, Chicken-Wuss, Messenger Girl . . . You'd have come for them, right? So why did you leave me to Her?"

"I . . . Seifer . . ." Squall looked away. ". . . I don't know . . ."

The larger man pushed off the window and strode around the desk to tower over Squall. The younger man seemed to curl into himself slightly, not out of fear, but as though he was in pain.

"Bullshit!" Seifer snapped, scowling thunderously as Squall pulled away. "Bull-fucking-shit, Leonhart! You can't even breath without analyzing it to death, let alone _abandon_ someone like that—abandon _me_ like that!"

Squall stood up so fast that his head almost hit Seifer chin. His eyes were blazing. "You. Left. _Me_," he hissed coldly, punctuating each word by hitting the blond's chest with the side of his fist. They weren't light hits, but they were barely taps compared to some of the blows they'd exchanged over the years.

Seifer grabbed his hand and squeezed the delicate wrist, grinding the fragile bones painfully. He jerked Squall closer to him so that the brunet's body was pressed flush against him. "I wasn't in total control! You said it yourself—that wasn't me. Not all of it. I made the choice to walk after Edea, yes! But I never knew it would go so far! Trabia, Belamb, Esthar, Lunatic Pandora, Lunar Cry . . . I _didn't know_, Leonhart! And in the end I was almost a spectator in my own head and I hated you for that! I sat there and waited for you like a fucking lovesick schoolgirl, all the while Her voice whispering in my head like a goddamned broken record. Day and night, night and day, always the same: nothing but Her and you and death. And I know that it was my fault, but I was waiting for you, Squall, and you never came!"

Their eyes remained locked on one another for a moment—Seifer's hard and unforgiving, _demanding_, while Squall's were the all the colors of the sea: blue and steel and turquoise. And then something happened that Seifer hadn't seen in over thirteen years: Squall's lower lip trembled slightly and those sea-colored eyes shimmered dangerously. The blond stiffened and his grip on the other man's wrist loosened.

"Squall . . ."

The shorter man shook his head slightly, a barely perceptible motion, and he leaned his forehead against Seifer's chest. The tears never fell, but they were still trembling in his eyes and they both knew it.

"Seifer . . ." he murmured in the man's chest. His voice was nowhere near emotionless—if anything he seemed to be drowning in his emotions, letting them devour him from the inside out. "Seifer . . . I'm here now . . ."

Seifer's face contorted with pain and he didn't feel the two hot tears that slid from his own eyes before they vanished into the autumn scented silk that was Squall's hair. He wrapped his arms around the narrow waist pressed close to him. "Are you, Leonhart? Are you really? You stand in a crowded room and you're a thousand miles away. You give speeches and demonstrations, bark orders, write policies . . . and you're just _not there_. I could reach out to touch you and my hand would pass right through you." He felt Squall flinch. "Are you really here with me now?"

"I was _always_ with you, Seifer . . . even when you went where I couldn't. Even when I wasn't any where else. That's why I _wasn't_ any where else. I was with you."

The blond squeezed him tightly as though to test his words and see if he would indeed pass through Squall. Slender arms wrapped around his neck and squeezed back.

"I didn't want to be a hero." The petit man whispered into his chest. His voice was as cold and emotionless as glass, but faint tremors wracked his body. "I didn't want to save the day. I just kept going because if I didn't I'd die. And I didn't want that either, no matter how hard I tried to get myself killed. Because the only time I was really alive was with you and I _craved_ that. So how could I be anywhere that you weren't then? I didn't come for you because I was already there. I was waiting for you to rescue me and it never crossed my mind that you couldn't—just that you wouldn't. And if you wouldn't then what did it matter because I was already dead."

Seifer ran his gloved hands tenderly through Squall's hair. "Do you love me, Leonhart?"

"I need you."

"But do you _love_ me?"

"Hyne . . . I _need_ you, Seifer." He tightened his grip around the blond's neck and pressed his face harder against his chest. "I don't know . . . I don't know . . . I don't understand anything . . ."

The hand in his hair gripped the auburn strands tightly and pulled Squall's head back at a painful angle. The pale boy cried out, only to have the sound lost in a bruising kiss.

_Heat_. It engulfed the whole world, set the very air aflame. _Their_ heat. And it became everything between them—their battle, their dance, their confusion, their anger, their passion, their song, the fire that was exclusively theirs. For an instant that was everything and when Seifer pulled away, there were tears sliding down his cheeks and blood sliding down Squall's chin. Pure heat.

"I love you, Leonhart."

To which only the desperate plea: "I need you, Seifer. I need you," was whispered.

More burning kisses followed, drinking in Squall's blood, trailing down his chin to his neck, scorching the sensitive hollow of his pale throat.

"I need you, Seifer. I need you."

And then suddenly Seifer stopped and pressed his sweaty forehead into the curve of Squall's neck. They were both panting and acutely aware of the feel of the other's body pressed against their erections.

Squall closed his eyes. "Seifer . . ."

"Shh . . ."

"I need you . . ."

The blond stood and his eyes were laughing and mourning all at the same time once more. He kissed Squall again. A chaste kiss this time, barely more than a brush of lips. "And I _love_ you, Squall."

He pressed another gentle kiss to Squall's forehead on the deepest part of the angry scar that marred the other's face and then he released Squall so suddenly that the brunet almost fell. Seifer tossed him one last sad look as he walked out of the office, leaving the High Commander aroused, bewildered, and bereft.

"Seifer . . .?"

His pleading whisper was lost beneath the sound of the door closing behind the swirl of a gray trench coat.

It was 08:28. And Commander Squall Leonhart's world shifted on its axis.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	3. The Last September

_**UnComfortable  
**_By: Vain  
27.10.2002

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

I do not own Squall Leonhart, Seifer Almasy, Rinoa Heartilly or any of the other members of the Final Fantasy VIII cast. They are the property of Sony and Squaresoft and I am not making any profit from using them. The song "_Comfortable_" was preformed by John Mayer and can be found on his album **Inside Wants Out** (track 7) from Columbia Records.

Special thanks must be given to **Arty-san** for one of the most thorough, comprehensive betas I've ever received. Thank you very, very much! I can't express how grateful I am for your hard work, diligence, and effort. :-)

**NOTE:** This story has **YAOI** and **SHOUNEN-AI** in it—Seifer/Squall pairing, no character bashing.

This story has and in it—Seifer/Squall pairing, no character bashing. 

This story was originally launched under my secondary pen name, "Hanakai." For convenience's sake, I have decided to streamline my fics under my original pen name, Vain. **_SAME AUTHOR._****_ SAME STORY. DIFFERENT NAME._** As a fic is re-uploaded under my Vain pen name, I will delete it from my Hanakai profile. Eventually, Hanakai will be deleted entirely, so please update your faves and bookmarks to reflect this.

_Thank you_ for all your previous reviews—I saved them all—and I hope you all review again. I'm greedy.

For progress notes on the pen name transition or if you have any questions, please see **my** **Livejournal** (linked both my profiles). I hope this doesn't inconvenience anyone & thank you for your patience.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

**Chapter Three  
****The Last September**

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

I sleep with this new girl I'm still getting used to;  
My friends all approve, say "She's gonna be good for you."  
They throw me high fives.  
She says the Bible is all that she reads  
And prefers that I not use profanity.  
Your mouth was so dirty.

Life of the party,  
And she swears that she's artsy,  
But you could distinguish  
Miles from Coltrane.

08:37

Seifer came to a dead halt in the middle of the hallway, his green eyes hardening dangerously.

Irvine pushed himself off the wall next to the door to Seifer's dorm. He smiled at the blond and tipped his hat slightly in greeting. "Seifer."

The edges of the taller man's mouth tightened noticeably. "Irvine."

"Where ya been?" He smiled, a stunning flash of white teeth, and lazily cocked his hip out to the side and looped his thumbs into the lower corners of his jean pockets. "'s a bit early to be startin' on the 'Rexaur population, ne? Unless you're our good ole Pussy-cat, 'course."

Seifer's expression darkened and he strode forward, nearly knocking the slighter man down as he pushed past him to get to the door. "I wouldn't know, Kinneas." He punched in the code and looked over into his unwelcome companion's eyes before hitting the 'Enter' button. "I'm not the one with Grat guts on the side of my boot."

The door slid open with a faint hum.

Irvine grinned. "Touché. And I'm not the one with Squall Leonhart's blood on my mouth."

The former Knight stiffened and his hand flew involuntarily to his lips. _Blood . . .?_ His tongue darted out, tasting the mostly dried substance before he thought better of it.

He'd bitten Squall's lower lip sometime during their frantic kisses. He could still remember the spice, the _heat_, of the little Lion's taste in his mouth.

His eyes flickered to Irvine again, suddenly aware of how very _close_ the man was standing to him, and he paled slightly.

"And I'm not the one with Squall Leonhart's blood on my mouth."

He knew. The goddamn, mother fucking cowboy _knew_.

Before the brunet could utter a single word, Seifer grabbed him by the collar of his long, tan coat and hauled him into the dorm room. An instant later, the door hummed shut behind him.

Irvine gasped as he was slammed hard into the wall, only vaguely aware of his hip hitting the corner of something followed by the shattering sound of glass hitting the floor. His cowboy hat fell off his head and coasted to the floor. Violet eyes opened and he couldn't help but smirk at the look of pure rage glittering in Seifer's jade eyes, barely smothering the anxiety there.

Such beautiful eyes, he thought almost absently as the blonde's hand tightened around his windpipe.

"What do you know, cowboy!"

Irvine's eyebrow twitched slightly. How exactly did the idiot expect him to answer when he couldn't breathe?

Sensing his dilemma, the gunblader released Irvine's throat with a faint growl. The longhaired cowboy wasted no time in craning his neck across the small gap between them and pressing his lips against Seifer's mouth.

Hard.

And just what the hell is his **tongue** doing in my mouth!

Seifer jerked back at the unfamiliar taste of Galbadian whiskey and cedar smoke and punched the cowboy, sending the slender body back into the wall again. He smirked in satisfaction at the satisfying crunch that came when his fist impacted with Irvine's nose.

Irvine slumped to the floor and his hands flew involuntarily to shield his bloody nose. Grinning like a madman, he licked his lips. "Yum."

Seifer's finger's twitched as he stared down at the other man in shock. "Are you fucking cracked, cowboy!"

Violet eyes dancing in merriment, the Galbadian shook his head. "Sorry." His voice was muffled by his hand. "It's not everyday ya get an opportunity like that one . . . couldn't pass it up."

Seifer seemed to pull himself up slightly so that he loomed over the man on the floor. He smirked, an expression that would have sent most other people running for cover and his voice was a smooth purr. "What do you want, Irvine?"

"To help you." The brunet's eyes fluttered shut and he pushed himself to his feet, still holding his nose. "_**Cure**_." A soft blue light emanated from his hands and the scent of kiwis and cherries filled the air briefly as the other man healed himself. He lowered his hands grinned cheekily at the blond. "Got a towel I can clean myself up with? Selph and I are going to lunch this afternoon and she'll go nuts if she finds out I've ruined the shirt she gave me last week."

For a moment the other man simply stared at him, a dark light flaring in his green eyes. Then, without a word, Seifer turned and stalked out of the room, headed towards what Irvine could only assume was the bathroom.

While he was away, Irvine retrieved his hat and settled down into a chair with a grin. This could prove to be more difficult than he had originally thought . . . More difficult, but _definitely_ more fun . . .

He heard the sound of water running.

Moments later the blond emerged from the same door he had entered, now holding a damp Standard Issue SeeD towel in his hands. He threw at the cowboy before settling down onto the couch opposite the other man. "Talk."

"You know what I love about you, Almasy?" the brunet drawled after a moment.

"My stunning good looks," Seifer snapped angrily.

Irvine grinned that cheeky grin again and Seifer barely resisted the urge to throttle him. He would _**not**_ kill Irvine Kinneas. He would _**not**_ kill Irvine Kinneas. He would _**not**_ kill Irvine Kinneas . . .

Whether the Galbadian was oblivious to the blond's agitation or was simply more evil than Seifer had ever given him credit for was beyond the larger man, but he nearly screamed when his unwanted guest winked and said, "Well, there's that, but there's more to you than eye-candy, darlin'. Can you guess what it is?"

Twitch. No, killing Irvine Kinneas would not do at all . . . ". . . Enlighten me, cowboy."

The grin vanished and Irvine sat up straight, looking suddenly serious. "You always go after what you want. No matter what the cost."

Seifer shifted, uncomfortable with the other man's intense scrutiny. "So?"

Irvine leaned forward and his eyes glittered. "_No matter what the cost_." He settled back in his chair, never breaking eye contact. "I'm not going to beat around the bush any longer, Almasy: You fucked up. I know it, you know it, and anyone who's ever heard the name Ultimecia knows it. _But…_," he said sharply when Seifer opened his mouth to protest, "only I know how badly. Well, you, Squall, and I."

Seifer clenched his fists in an effort to curb his growing desire to harm the lanky man. Even beyond the legal hot water it would put him in, Squall seemed to have a rather bizarre attachment to the Galbadian that Seifer had no desire to test. The blond settled for grinding his teeth. "Congratulations, cowboy. You done gloating now?"

Irvine cocked his head to the side. "And just what makes you think I'm not here to blackmail you? Mr. Big Bad himself banging our very own Ice Prince, the Virgin Commander?" His lips quirked in what could have been a smile. "Mmmm . . . that sounds like quite the scoop. _Timber Maniacs_ would have a field day. Imagine the headlines."

Seifer narrowed his eyes. "You won't." he said calmly.

"And you're so certain of this that you'd risk everything?"

"No," the blond said slowly, shaking his head slightly. "It's no risk. Regardless of whether or not you like me, you'd never do that to Squall."

A single dark eyebrow lifted in mocking curiosity. "You think?"

"You got a busted face and damn near got strangled just to taste him on my lips," Seifer responded blandly. "I'd say that's some kind of devotion you've got there . . . Though I can't say I know why the hell you're playing these games with me . . ."

The cowboy tipped his hat in acknowledgement. "Perceptive, ain't you, Almasy?"

"When I have to be. Now get on with it, cowboy."

Irvine regarded him carefully for a moment and then nodded before continuing, "Listen to me, Seifer, 'cause I don't intend to repeat myself. I don't know you. And, honestly, I don't like what I've seen of you. You were an arrogant, overbearing, domineering brat of a child, and from everything I've seen you're an arrogant, overbearing, domineering brat of a man. I play with you because it's fun; because no one else can or will and quite frankly, you deserve to be on the receiving end for a while. You're self-centered, angry, confused, and a danger to everyone, including yourself." He paused, watching a muscle in Seifer's cheek jump madly.

"At least," he continued after a moment, "that's what I thought."

"So what changed your mind, Kinneas?"

"Squall, of course. Watching him as he tried to reach out to you. Watching him as you tried to pull away. And watching you in the hall this morning."

Seifer's green eyes darkened in confusion and Irvine growled at his apparent inability to comprehend this simple thing.

"He's in love with you, you dumbfuck!" he growled. "Whether he admits it or not, he's always been in love with you! I stuck by him during the war. I _watched_, Seifer. I _listened_. I know Leonhart like I know the curves of Exeter and I know what's been going on behind those empty eyes of his. He loves you. He misses you. He wants you. He needs _you_. And if you _ever_ hurt him like that again, then so help me Hyne, I will kill you and bury you within the hour, Seifer Almasy. You know I can. You know I will."

Seifer pushed himself to his feet and started towards the door. His voice grated harshly out of his throat as though it had gone unused for a long time. "If you're saying that, then you don't know anything at all, cowboy."

He hit the door panel and stepped aside as the doors slid open, obviously waiting for Irvine to join him. His jade eyes seemed a bit too bright as the sharpshooter rose to leave, a slight sneer of disgust marring his pleasant features. The gunblader gripped Irvine's arm as he went past, forcing the brunet to halt, and drew him closer. He bent slightly, gently pressing the scarred curve of his forehead to the delicate slope of Irvine's healed nose. His eyes glimmered feverishly as they looked into the other man's violet depths.

"If I ever hurt him like that again, I'll finish the job myself. Because if I lose him again, push him away again, then I've got nothing left. The only reason I came here, became SeeD, was to get him back—to try and find where we were before all that crazy shit went down. And I am _NOT_ walking away from him again."

Irvine smiled, not that slightly sadistic grin, nor that self-satisfied smirk, but a true smile. Gloved hands reached up and gently cradled Seifer's cheeks as he stared into the man's eyes. "And Rinoa?"

"What about her?"

"She loves him."

"Not like I do," the blond hissed fervently. His grip on Irvine's arm became painful. "No one ever will like I do!"

Irvine pulled back and gently laid a kiss against Seifer's scar. The blond shivered to feel the other man mimic what he had done to Squall just over an hour ago.

"Irvine—"

"Keep your word, Seifer." He pulled away and smirked slightly as he headed out the door. "Because I'll be keeping mine . . . to both of you. And watch out for Zell. I'm not the only one in Garden with eyes and ears."

"What?"

The cowboy shook his head and chuckled faintly at whatever joke he had just made, his footsteps unnaturally quiet in the hall. Seifer leaned heavily against his doorframe and stared after him long after he'd vanished.

"Starkers," he mumbled to himself as he stared down the empty hall. "Absolutely stark fucking raving mad."

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

She looked surprised when the door slid open, her dark eyes widening. "Zell?"

The tattooed blond bounced slightly on the balls of his feet, awkward and uncomfortable. "Can I come in?"

"I was just on my way to see Squall. He's being so silly—these arguments. Anyway, it's all Seifer's fau—"

"It's about Squall," Zell interrupted impatiently.

"Oh . . ." She blinked and her face tightened for a moment as though she had bitten into something sour. "Um . . . okay. Come in." She stepped aside and let him enter.

As the door slid closed behind him Rinoa looked at him speculatively, the smooth creamy skin of her forehead wrinkling ever so slightly. "So what's so important, Zell?"

The blond looked away, his eyes latching onto a picture of a large sunflower that adorned the wall of her dorm. He didn't understand why she had her own room anyway; everyone knew she slept with Squall.

"Zell?"

This had seemed like such a good idea when he hadn't been face to face with that little girl smile and her disarming, shuffling innocence. He turned away from her.

"Rinoa . . ." his voice trailed off, sounding small and scratchy.

She shifted impatiently, waiting for him to continue.

"Seifer," he started again abruptly. "I saw . . . This . . ." he stumbled over the words.

Rinoa's dark eyes narrowed and she looked down at the floor. "He's still in love with Squall then?"

Zell's head snapped up in surprise. "What?"

"Why do you think we broke up in the first place, Zell?" the girl demanded. She sounded tired. ". . . He shouldn't be here with us. He's not one of us."

"You feel threatened by him." It wasn't a question.

For a moment Rinoa didn't say anything, biting her lower lip in agitation. "I . . . Squall and I belong together," she said at last. "Everyone knows it. Things . . ." she appeared to struggle for a moment. "Things shouldn't be this way!"

He stared at her for a minute, his brilliant blue eyes boring into her; she turned away from him to stare out the window at the flat endless ocean.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't deserve to hurt this much," the petite Sorceress murmured at last.

Zell closed his eyes in pain.

It was a war, he wanted to say . . . as though that justified everything and could soothe the heartache he was about to cause. _It was a war and we didn't know what to expect . . . what we were getting into on all fronts . . . And you, you're still a . . . an outsider . . . _

, he wanted to say . . . as though that justified everything and could soothe the heartache he was about to cause. 

But his mouth wouldn't form the words. Instead he found himself saying, "Do you love him?"

Deep brown eyes blinked several times and she frowned slightly as though she didn't understand the question. ". . . What do you mean?"

He looked over at her and pressed his lips into a thin, tight line. "Do you love him?" _It was a war . . . You have to understand that._

"I . . ." The Sorceress turned away and walked over to a window, her arms wrapped tight around her narrow waist. "He's my Knight."

Zell cocked his head to the side and scowled slightly. "I'm serious, Rinny. Really. If you don't, just let go of him. For both your sakes."

She turned around halfway to face him, her long raven-black hair slipping down over her shoulder and casting the right side of her face in deep, almost sinister shadows. Her eyes glittered darkly, but her voice was soft and almost petulant—a child being deprived of a favorite toy. "Has he said something to you?"

"I saw him with Seifer." That should have been enough. If she knew about Seifer, then surely she had to know about Squall. Didn't she?

Rinoa blinked slowly as though expecting him to say something else. When he didn't she turned back to the window, clutching her sides a bit tighter as though cold. "He's my Knight."

There was a bite of anger in her voice now as well as something that sounded suspiciously like tears. "Do you think I don't hear what everyone says? I know I'm not a fighter, and I know I'm not clever like Quistis, or bold like Selphie . . . I know all that! But I am not a trophy to be paraded around on a golden pedestal or an attachment for cocktail parties. I was there along side the rest of you and I deserve a reward, too!"

Zell took a step towards her. He longed to wrap his arms around her and promise her that the Knight and Princess would ride away happily into the sunset, but he couldn't. She knew it was a lie—she'd probably known the moment he announced that he'd accepted Seifer back into Garden. That was when he had stopped talking again . . . when the fights and the arguments had begun.

"I fought too!" the girl whispered softly, her back still to him. "I didn't ask for these powers. I didn't ask for Time Compression. So why, then, don't I get a reward?"

"Rinoa . . ." He gently laid a gloved hand on her slender shoulder and felt her flinch beneath his touch. "You . . . He . . . He was never yours to begin with . . . never a prize to be given away . . . or stolen away."

"And I was?"

The blond cringed at the bitter tone as she continued.

"'Good job, Squall. You saved the world. And here's your reward!' And then you all just hand me over to him with a bow tie and I get _nothing_!"

It was Zell's turn to scowl now and he jerked his hand off her shoulder as though she'd burned him. "Handed you over?" he snapped. "You running him down and hog-tying him, is more like it! Yes, you were there and yes, you fought, but were you paying attention at all after the fight with Galbadia? You were on the sidelines, Princess, begging to be rescued and damn near getting us all killed to be a tragic heroine. When you fell off of Garden after Galbadia attacked us, he fought like mad against the idea that he be the one to rescue you. Anyone of us could have done it, but we were all so determined to _make_ him happy that . . ." he trailed off in obvious disgust and turned his back to her. "If anything we delivered Squall to you!"

". . . Get out, Zell."

For a moment they stood in the pale, glittering sunlight their backs to one another as the silence stretched into a thin, fragile thing.

Rinoa gripped herself so tightly that her long fingernails cut into her skin. "Zell—"

"It was a war," he said abruptly, cutting her off. "It was a war and it was horrid and ugly and . . . and it's probably better that you were there anyway. You gave him something else to worry about, someone different to _care_," he choked on the word, "for. Better you than Almasy, I guess. That's all I wanted to say."

His sneakers made soft whispers as he walked to the door.

"Animals," she spat suddenly.

Zell paused as the door slid open in front of him. "Rin—"

Rinoa whirled around, her long black hair fanning out beautifully around her as her delicate face twisted in rage in and pain. "You're nothing but animals, the whole lot of you!"

The martial artist clenched his jaw and then turned and stalked stiffly out of the room, heedless of her enraged shouts.

"You get back here! How dare you all stand aside and allow this to happen! You're all just animals!"

She grabbed the closest object she could get her hands on, a delicate hand-blown crystal angel that Selphie had gotten her for her birthday, and hurled it at the retreating man just as the doors slid closed behind him. The expensive crystal exploded against the cold steel with a jarring popping sound that was far too loud and glass flew everywhere, hitting the floor in thousands of gold and rainbow shimmers where the light caught it. She slumped back against the window, waiting for Zell to return or for someone to come and see what all the noise was. The glass had shattered so loudly that surely the entire building had moved and surely the whole Garden would come running. They'd all come running into her room, weapons at the ready and see all the glass laying everywhere and—and—and . . .

And she couldn't stop crying.

So she waited. No one came.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


End file.
